


What Friends Are For

by assholemurphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Friendship, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Protective!Murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scene where Charlotte tries to kill Wells, only this time, someone’s there to stop it. After it’s over, Wells and Murphy’s friendship grows a little bit, because Murphy is scared and over protective, and Wells is just glad someone on the ground actually cares about him. (Other than Clarke, obvs.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are For

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do this for a while now, because Wells dying was so unnecessary, honestly, and I wanted to write a fic where he survived. Also guard dog!Murphy is how I see him being with his friends, ya know, if he had some. :/
> 
> Written for Underappreciated Ships Month on tumblr. (For Free Choice Day.)

The wind rustled leaves and the cicadas screamed in the background, a distant, constant noise that reminded Wells enough of the Ark to comfort him and allow him to let his thoughts drift as he watched the treeline. He was on watch, this time actually appointed the duty by Bellamy, through Clarke, he assumed, trying to make up for everything by finally allowing him to be of some official use.

There was nothing in the trees that he could see, everything had long since fallen asleep. He would have usually felt alone and malcontent, but after today's events, he doubted he would feel anything less than happy for a while.

After years of Clarke hating him the truth had finally come out and they were friends once more. Granted, he felt a little bad about her hatred being turned towards her mother, but that was far overshadowed by the joy he felt at having his best friend back. Things were getting better, he could tell. It wouldn't be long until they got settled in completely and got their camp ready for winter, whenever it was coming. Since they couldn't be sure exactly when it would arrive, the sooner they were able to prepare themselves the better. Maybe now he'd have his ideas listened to. He had his best friend back, he had a voice, he finally felt like maybe Earth wasn't such a horrible thing after all. They might actually be able to do this, they may yet survive.

Wells smiled to himself. Yeah, everything was going to be just fine. Between Clarke and Murphy, he wouldn't be an outsider anymore. He was accepted, at least by two people, and that was better than no one.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him and he turned, expecting Murphy to be standing there, ready to complain about Bellamy and make sarcastic comments about anything he could think of. It had become an almost nightly ritual of theirs, after everyone went to bed, Murphy would take up watch with him and they'd talk, or whine, or sometimes just sit there until one of them fell asleep only to be woken up by a sharp jab to the side if it was Murphy doing the waking, or a firm shake if it was him doing it.

He was surprised and, though he tried not to show it, a little disappointed to see not Murphy, but a young girl walking up to him. He'd seen her around camp, but he didn't know much about her other than that she was the youngest on the ground, probably about twelve. He felt a stab of pity for her, being so young and having her life taken from her like it had been. Children shouldn't be locked up in the Skybox at that young, Wells hated that the system had no leeway or forgiveness for children. It was one of the things he'd hated most about the Ark, but there were so many now he couldn't remember if he'd every really liked anything about it.

“Hi,” She said, stepping closer, seemingly nervous about something. Wells chalked it up to being out in the dark. It could be a little scary at times, not knowing what was out there.

“Couldn't sleep?” He asked her.

“I never can,” She told him, sounding a bit sad. It was gone a second later when she asked, “You on watch?”

“Join me,” Wells offered, motioning to the log he was sitting on. Might as well offer, if she couldn't sleep. It wouldn't be too bad to have some company. Things were changing already. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard for them to get used to him. It was a nice thought.

She sat down beside him, quiet for a moment before, “I had a nightmare.”

Wells listened, not saying anything. He didn't want to pry or make her close up. If she wanted to talk to him, he was more than willing to listen. He'd only wanted to help since he got down here and now it seemed he was getting that chance. He couldn't guarantee he'd be able to fix her problems, but he would try to help as best she can. He made a quiet noise of interest, urging her on.

She continued, “Well, I- I have them every night. But,” She paused, looking up at Wells, “I think I found a way to make them stop.”

Wells was about to ask her what that was, and if he could help her in some way, but a bird fluttered off to the side and his head turned, startled and searching for danger. It took him only a second to register that there was none, but before he could turn back to her he heard her say, “I'm sorry.”

He began to turn his head towards her, a question on his lips that died the second he saw her raised her hand, something dark in it, glinting silver when it caught the moonlight. He immediately recognized it, having seen it before, and went to tell her to stop, but he couldn't form words. It was happening too fast for him to process, too fast for him to stop, the knife coming up to his throat before he could utter a word. He felt the sharp sting of the blade as it touched his neck and felt his blood spill. It was too fast for him to think, but he knew he was going to die.

He didn't want to. He didn't want to die just yet, not with everything finally going right for once, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't stop it. It was happening too fast.

And then it wasn't happening at all.

The knife was no longer digging into his throat and he was bleeding, he could feel it, but he wasn't dead. The knife hadn't went deep enough to harm him irreversibly before it had disappeared.

Wells took a shaky breath and looked to the girl who was staring, wide eyed and terrified at something above them, her arm still held out with the knife in her hand but there was something -someone- holding onto it. Wells followed the hand until he found the person it connected to, standing above them, keeping the knife from going into Wells' neck.

Murphy looked down at Wells in panic, not really comprehending what was going on. He had come to find Wells, to gripe about Bellamy and ask him what had happened with Clarke earlier, but he'd stumbled upon Wells and the girl and he had waited, not wanting to interrupt. If people were finally accepting Wells, he wasn't going to mess it up for him. He had watched, quietly, glad people were finally approaching his friend, but then things had gotten weird. He'd heard her say she found a way to make the nightmares stop and heard the uncertainty in her voice. He watched, hearing her 'sorry' and immediately moving, getting there just in time to stop her from harming Wells too badly, though too late to stop him from sustaining any injury at all.

Murphy's hand gripped the girl's arm tightly, not able to let go. He looked down at Wells, just as confused as he was, not sure what to make of the situation as she stared up him in terror. It took him a moment to find his voice but when he did he asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

She looked from Murphy to Wells and began to panic, realizing she was caught and there was nothing she could do to get out of it. Tears formed in her eyes and she stumbled out an explanation, fearing she was going to be in trouble now. “The nightmares won't stop! Every night Jaha takes my parents again and again and he kills them and I can't do anything and Bellamy said to slay my demons and that it would help so that's what I was trying to do! I just want them to stop! Please don't hurt me!” She begged, crying. “I'm sor-”

She didn't get a chance to finish her apology before Murphy had jerked her up, his hand twisted in her braids, wrenching the knife from her hand and holding it to her throat, ignoring the pleas that spilled from her mouth.

“You were going to kill Wells?” Now the scene was making more sense to him.

“I'm sorry! I just wanted the nightmares to stop!” She pleaded, trying to pull his arm away from her neck to no avail. Try as she might, Murphy was the stronger of the two, and the more determined. She'd just admitted to trying to kill one of his friends, he wasn't going to just let her go without making sure she never tried it again. “You stupid little-”

“Murphy, stop it!” Wells demanded, the shock that had followed his near death finally clearing. He kept one hand pressed to the cut on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding. While it wasn't fatal, he did need to get it to stop quickly. He watched the two, fearing the worst. He stood up, reaching out to Murphy with his free hand, trying to calm him down before he did something he'd regret. “Murphy, she's just a kid. You can't kill her.”

“I can,” Murphy told him, ignoring the girl's begging and crying. He had no sympathy for her. She tried to kill one of his friends. She deserved to die because of it.

“It's alright, calm down,” Wells faltered, realizing he didn't yet know the girl's name. They hadn't exactly been introduced. “What's your name? It's going to be okay, Murphy's not going to hurt you-”

“The hell I'm not!”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Wells demanded. He was trying to defuse the situation and Murphy's mouth wasn't going to help anything. “It's going to be alright, okay?”

The girl whimpered but managed out, “It's Charlotte. And I'm sorry, I didn't-”

“Shut up!” Murphy hissed, pressing the knife harder against her throat, causing her to sob.

Wells grit his teeth and spoke calmly, wishing he had picked someone a little more rational to be friends with. Well, no, he didn't, but it would be nice if Murphy would chill the fuck out for maybe two seconds. “Murphy put the knife down. Nobody has to die tonight, okay?”

“She was going to kill you, Wells!” He shot back, not understanding why Wells was protecting Charlotte. She'd tried to kill him. She was going to kill Wells and now he was defending her? It didn't make any sense to Murphy.

“I know, but come on, stop this,” Wells coaxed, reaching out to try to take the knife from Murphy.

Murphy refused, jerking away so Wells couldn't stop him, causing the knife to dig deeper into Charlotte's neck. “No, Wells, she tried to kill you! Do you not understand that?”

“Yes, I do, but-”

“She tried to kill you!”

“So did you, once.” Wells told him, calmly, hoping to reason with him. Charlotte wasn't the only one to make an attempt on Wells' life, this wasn't exactly new.

Murphy's hand faltered, his grip on the knife loosening for a second before he shook his head, pressing it to her neck again, ignoring her screech. “How do you know she won't do it again?” How did they know that the second he let her go she wouldn't try to kill Wells again? How did they know she'd ever stop? They didn't. This was the safest option. The only option.

“I don't, but you're not going to kill her,” Wells spoke certainly, like he already knew the outcome. “You're not going to hurt her.”

“Why the fuck not?” Murphy was frustrated. Couldn't Wells see he was protecting him? How could he do that if Wells was willing to let anyone who hurt him go free? What was preventing them from trying again and again until they finally succeeded? Did Wells even understand what it would be like to lose him? What it would do to the people he left behind? Him and Clarke, they couldn't cope with that, Wells needed to understand that. Murphy couldn't let Charlotte go. He couldn't let her hurt Wells again. “Why should I fucking let her go?”

“Because you're not that person, Murphy,” Wells insisted. They'd made a lot of progress since they'd become friends. Murphy wasn't exactly approachable or even close to friendly, no, but he wasn't picking fights anymore. It was progress, and Wells was sure Murphy wasn't a killer. “Don't do this. You're better than this, remember?”

Murphy looked at him, stunned. Since when had this become about whether or not he was a good person? This wasn't about that at all, this was about Charlotte trying to kill Wells. He looked from Wells to Charlotte, the blade still against her neck, a thin line of blood beading around it. He could do it. He wanted to do it. He wanted to protect Wells. There was nothing to prove Charlotte wouldn't try again and what if nobody was there to save him? What then? “She's going to kill you.” His voice was quiet, unsure, and Wells knew he was getting to him.

“No, Murphy. Look, let's find a way to work this out. You're not going to kill her. Let her go and we'll go talk to Clarke, okay?” Wells compromised, “She'll know what to do and we can get out of this without spilling any blood, okay?”

Murphy hesitated for a second but then he dropped his hand and let go of Charlotte's hair, stepping away from her and shoving his knife into one of his pants pockets, scowling at Wells. “Go figure you'd be the one to defend the person who literally just tried to kill you.”

Charlotte took off, leaving them standing in the clearing. Murphy started after her but Wells stopped him, shaking his head, “Let her go.”

“You've really got to find some self preservation in there. All this self sacrificing, good guy martyr shit's going to get you killed.”

Wells smiled, “I figure I'm two for two, might get another friend out of it, seems to be the trend, anyway.”

“Shut up,” Murphy huffed, giving one last look towards where she ran to before turning his attention back to Wells. “Are you okay?”

“I'm bleeding, but I'll live. Thanks, for stepping in like that. I didn't- She would have killed me,” Wells thanked him. Now that nobody was in any danger, the whole thing had begun to feel strange and unreal to him, like he was looking into some alternate universe. Hadn't Murphy been the one trying to kill him just weeks ago?

“Yeah.” Murphy shrugged awkwardly. He was used to hurting people, not helping them, and certainly not used to being thanked for it. It didn't seem right, he wasn't too sure he liked it. “Think it makes up for trying to kill you, you know, repeatedly?”

Wells nodded, “Yeah, you saved my life. Thank you, I-”

“Let me see your neck.” Murphy stopped him, not wanting any more sentimental crap. Wells had a terrible habit of spewing it on the regular, and while he didn't mind most of the time, he really didn't want to deal with it right now.

“Why?”

“So I can break it,” Murphy snarked. “I want to see how bad it is.”

“It's not bad. Just a scratch. I think the bleeding's stopped already.” Wells assured him, taking his hand away and letting him take a look.

Murphy looked the wound over, agreeing that it was just a scratch, feeling relieved. Wells would be fine. He wasn't going to die. He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving him. Murphy nodded, “You should live, but we should get you to Clarke, to be sure.”

“Come back with me?”

“No, I'm going to let you go back alone so she can ambush you and kill you in the dark.”

Wells snorted and began walking back to camp, not responding to the sarcasm. He supposed he understood why Murphy was upset. Charlotte had tried to kill him and he'd defended her rather than allow Murphy to kill her. Anyone else would have probably let him do it, but Wells couldn't let that happen. Charlotte was a child who'd had her parents and her life taken from her by his father, he understood her anger towards him. He was the closest she was going to get to his father, an outlet, just like he'd been for Murphy. He wondered if he'd ever actually be rid of his father's reputation, if they'd ever start to see him as his own person and not just a reflection of the man that had sentenced them all to die down here. He doubted it.

Murphy walked beside him, keeping an eye on him the whole time and steadying him when he tripped over a tree root, Wells had laughed and Murphy had called him clumsy, but they made it back safely, no sign of Charlotte or anyone else.

They found Clarke by the dropship and she'd taken them inside. Wells explained what happened while she bandaged him up, Murphy by his side, refusing to leave and glaring daggers at Clarke whenever she suggested it, until she'd given up.

Wells gave him a smile when he sat down next to him inside the tent with Clarke and Bellamy. Murphy had returned it and the turned his attention to explaining to them what had happened from his point of view after Wells had. In the end they had decided to leave it until morning, since Charlotte hadn't came back to camp yet. Murphy had objected and Wells had tried to stop him, but in the end he'd ended up having to cover Murphy's mouth with his hand so he would shut up, much to the amusement of everyone involved.

They left the tent, the atmosphere considerably lighter than when they'd entered. It was late and they needed sleep. Wells said nothing as Murphy walked him to his tent, but he did notice how nervous and unsure he seemed to be about letting him be alone with Charlotte still out there. “You do know I'll be fine, right? I'm a big boy, Murphy. I'll be alright.”

“You don't know that.”

Wells began to object but he stopped, because Murphy had a point. He didn't know that for sure, but admitting it wasn't going to help anything. “You don't have to worry,” He said instead.

“Doesn't stop me from doing it.”

“Aw, look at you, caring about people. We'll turn you into a good guy yet,” Wells joked, bumping Murphy's shoulder playfully.

“Oh, fuck off, Jaha.”

“Don't call me that.” Wells said quickly, frowning.

Murphy nodded slowly, understanding, “Sorry. Fuck off, _Wells._ ”

Wells laughed and they stood there in silence for a moment, Murphy trying to think of a way to convince Wells to let someone stand guard or something when, “Do you want to stay?”

“What?” The question had caught Murphy off guard and he wasn't sure how to respond.

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Wells repeated, figuring it was the best solution to the problem at hand.

Murphy smirked, “Wells, buddy, I'm flattered, really, but-”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Murphy,” Wells sighed in exasperation. Of all the people he could have been friends with.

Murphy grinned at him for a second before letting it fade, asking, “Would it not bother you?”

“It's better than you pacing outside my tent all night.”

“I wasn't going to-” Wells stopped him with a look. Yes, he was. “Never mind. Yeah, sure, if you don't mind.”

“I don't.” Honestly, he was a little relieved and kind of comforted by it. Murphy was ruthless, he knew that, and he felt incredibly safe having him watching his back. It was like having a guard dog or something. A very sarcastic guard dog. Wells was grateful, even more so that he hadn't had to outright ask to not be alone tonight. Something about almost being killed made it very hard to sleep, he'd found. “Come on, then.”

Murphy followed him into his tent, more relieved about not having to leave Wells than he was willing to admit. Mbege could live without him for one night, he was sure. This way he'd be able to keep Wells safe, even if it was doubtful that Charlotte would try to do anything inside camp, especially now. But it made him feel better knowing he could protect Wells if he needed to.

The process of getting everything settled had taken a little longer than expected, Murphy leaving for a moment to grab his own blankets and let Mbege know what was up before returning and getting settled in. They didn't sleep immediately, instead they sat there, neither speaking for a while, trying to will themselves to wind down. After a while it began to work and Wells yawned, Murphy echoing it a second later.

Murphy was about to get up and move to his own bed so they could sleep, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to ask what was up but the words were lost when Wells pulled him into a hug. Murphy tensed up, unsure of what to do, but Wells didn't let go, so he finally brought his arms up to return it, patting Wells on the back a little awkwardly.

Wells held on for what felt like forever, but Murphy didn't say a word, trying his best to be of some comfort to him. “Thanks,” He whispered into Murphy's shoulder. _For saving my life, for staying, for having my back, for_ _**caring** _ _enough to_ _._

Murphy smiled, returning the hug tightly, “No problem, buddy. S'what friends are for, isn't it?”

Wells nodded and pulled away, smiling back at him, “Yeah, it is.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is loved. I'm [here](http://assholemurphy.tumblr.com/)


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